Nikola (Legacy of Heathens #2)

Present

New Orleans

“ A re you out of your fucking mind, son?”

My father slammed his office door shut behind him, each of his footsteps reverberating like an earthquake threatening to level the house.

“I’m talking to you, Nikola,” he roared, the arched window at his back rattling against its frame.

He lowered himself at his desk, bringing his fist down onto the mahogany surface.

Honestly, I was surprised the desk had lasted this long.

Rumor went that the last one was almost splintered when Uncle Sasha kidnapped Aunt Branka on her wedding day to another man.

“I hear you,” I said calmly. “I’m your only son. Of course you’re talking to me, Vasili.”

His expression darkened, and I knew I’d struck a nerve. My father didn’t take kindly to me calling him by his first name. Today was not the day to push his buttons.

So naturally, I pushed them harder.

“I’m pretty sure everyone in New Orleans did,” I scoffed. “Besides, what’s done is done; it’s time to move on.”

I reached into my pocket and fished out a stick of gum, tossing it into my mouth. The crinkle of the wrapper was barely loud enough to cut through the somber silence that accompanied our staredown.

I held his glare, smacking my gum obnoxiously.

My father’s blondish-grayish hair turned a remarkable shade of orange as his blood pressure skyrocketed and his skin heated.

“Her father saw the fucking tape,” he bellowed.

“It was discreetly done. You can’t see anything scandalous,” I stated matter-of-factly.

“You’re missing the point, which is that you are fucking Dante Leone’s only daughter !”

“Hmm, I thought she was Uncle Sasha’s daughter,” I snickered, and he shot me a look that told me he would love to reach across the table and strangle me. “Relax, it’s not incest. She was adopted, remember?” I said, even though I knew there was no way he’d forget.

“Incest is the least of your worries.”

The temperature in the room plummeted to dangerous digits, but it didn’t faze me. My father would eventually see that I had done the right thing.

I leaned back in my chair, propped my legs up on the desk, and started flipping through an old copy of Forbes I’d picked up on my way in.

“Put the fucking magazine down,” he hissed through gritted teeth. The vein throbbing in his neck told me he was moments away from erupting.

“Relax, Dad. Honestly, in today’s day and age, sex tapes are everywhere.”

“Don’t fucking tell me to relax,” he roared.

“This is like déjà vu. My brother and sister reincarnated into my own children. My brother’s erratic behavior finally calmed down.

My sister stopped her partying and lunacy.

Our family was so fucking close to something resembling normalcy. Then you came along and?—”

“There’s nothing normal about those two,” I chimed in, then popped a bubble. “Besides, Uncle Sasha and Aunt Tatiana might be unchanged, but their spouses are handling it better than you did.”

“I could strangle you right now, Nikola.”

“Let’s not start the kinky incest talk now.”

He gave his head a subtle shake, his nostrils flaring.

“Why didn’t you come to me if there was something between you and Skye? I could have arranged?—”

I lifted my palm and stopped him. “After the shitstorm your friends Nico and Luciano created for Matteo… No, thank you.”

“That was an honest mistake, and neither you nor Skye has a twin, so it’s a non-issue,” he retorted patiently.

“Maybe, but I wasn’t risking it. I wanted a sure thing, and that’s what I got.

Skye’s mine.” I uncrossed my legs and propped my arms on my knees, growing suddenly irritated with the direction our conversation was taking.

“It’s not like our families are known for Jane Austen–worthy courtship practices. ”

“I asked your mother to marry me.”

“More or less,” I quipped. “And let’s not forget that Sasha kidnapped his bride on the day of her wedding. To someone else. In the church.”

Lightning gathered in my dad’s eyes, preparing to strike me.

“I just can’t catch a break with all of you.” I opened my mouth, readying for a comeback, when he shot me a look filled with warning. “Your uncle might have kidnapped a bride on her wedding day, but not even he would resort to making a sex tape.”

I shrugged, unimpressed. “What can I say? I’m one of a kind.”

He shoved his hand through his hair, pulling so hard on the ends that I winced.

“One of a kind,” he repeated through gritted teeth. “Son, I’m not going to continue arguing with you. You should have gone to Sasha and Dante Leone and asked to date Skye… marry her… whatever the fuck you young people are doing these days. What you did crossed a line.”

I blew a bubble with my gum, letting it pop before I spoke again.

“I asked Uncle Sasha about marrying her and he told me he’d blind me if I so much as tried.

Dante Leone wasn’t much better.” I cleared my throat and, in the best Italian accent I could muster, said, “ So much as look her way, boy, and I’ll cut you into little pieces and feed them to the sharks .

” Needless to say, I got the message. “Honestly, I didn’t think the man was so poetic. ”

Dad slammed his fist against his table again, rattling it. “And you didn’t think to heed the man’s advice?”

“Obviously not.”

“Are you trying to start a war?” He stood up, towering over me. If I stood from my chair, we’d be the same height, but I didn’t think it wise to push him any further.

“Why? What have you heard?”

The door to my father’s office opened and my mom appeared, rushing to Dad’s side. “Vasili, keep it down. We don’t need to alarm the staff.”

His expression softened and so did his tone. “Of course, malyshka ,” he said and turned to me, his molars making a crunching sound. “And you, Nikola… You will marry her.”

“Of course,” I drawled lazily.

“Expect to get the beatdown of a lifetime by your uncle,” he continued. “I sure as fuck won’t stop him.”

Mom gasped, but I wasn’t concerned. She seemed to forget that my uncle was no longer in his prime and I was no longer her child to protect—if he wanted to go there, let him.

“You will treat that girl with reverence and worship the ground she walks on. You hear me?” he said, sitting back down.

“It’s hard not to hear you.” I popped another bubble just to piss him off a bit more, relishing the fury rolling off him in waves. “You’re still shouting.”

Our eyes locked in a battle of wills. I couldn’t read his thoughts, but I knew they were murderous.

Mom must have thought so too because she wedged herself onto his lap and took his cheeks in her palms, diverting his gaze.

I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. The older generations in our world weren’t known for their love matches.

Men used to marry for power and greed and control.

But my parents? Theirs was a happy marriage.

Before we could spit more words at each other, the door to my father’s office opened again and my sister, Marietta, strolled in theatrically.

She was no longer drunk—or as drunk, I should say—and was back to looking put-together and fresh, wearing head-to-toe Givenchy.

She’d always dressed more mature and sophisticated than the other twenty-year-olds she brought around the house.

She plunked herself down next to me and winked. “I hear you got yourself into some serious fucking shit, brat .”

“Marietta! Language, please,” Mom scolded.

My baby sister rolled her eyes. “We’re a family of mobsters who kill people, but okay, I’ll watch my vocabulary. Checks out.”

I patted her on the head. “Right you are, sestra , but don’t add fuel to the fire. You know I’ll be the first one they blame.”

She waved her hand. “I did learn from the best.”

I shot her an exasperated look. “If this is you helping, please stop.”

She let out a chuckle.

“Nikola.” Dad looked even more annoyed than before, if that were possible.

“Yes?”

“Put a fucking shirt on,” he thundered, and Mom patted his hand, hoping to calm him down.

“What’s with this ‘look’ of yours, Nikola?” Mom asked, bracketing the word with her fingers. “Do we need to order you?—”

Marietta cut her off. “He does it to impress Skye.”

My dad shook his head, muttering, “I’m sure there is some sense in that statement somewhere, but I don’t see it.”

Mom sighed. “It must mean we’re getting old.”

“You two are old.” My sister waved her hand as if she didn’t just insult our parents. “Skye made a passing comment years ago that she likes her men either in suits or shirtless. Nikola opted for the no-shirt option.”

“You’re a pain in my fucking ass,” I hissed.

She grinned. “But you love me.”

“God help me,” Dad grumbled. “You both know I’d kill for you, but some days I’m tempted to put an end to the misery myself.”

“Speaking of, I’m bored. Want me to help you kill someone?” Marietta asked, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers.

Yeah, the Nikolaev family was one of a kind. A different shade of disturbed.